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ancient wisdom of the East,—the perpetual Sûtra of Impermanency.
Yet how few of our modern poets have given heed to the voices of insects!
Perhaps it is only to minds inexorably haunted by the Riddle of Life that Nature can speak to-day, in those thin sweet trillings, as she spake of old to Solomon.
The Wisdom of the East hears all things. And he that obtains it will hear the speech of insects,—as Sigurd, tasting the Dragon's Heart, heard suddenly the talking of birds.
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